


On Gilded Wings

by Rydain



Category: Shin Sangokumusou | Dynasty Warriors
Genre: China, Erotica, F/M, Het, Historical, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-13
Updated: 2010-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rydain/pseuds/Rydain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhen Ji departs the ruins of Yecheng to find her way forth in the house of a rising empire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Gilded Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soliari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliari/gifts).



The breeze out on her balcony carried the faint acridity of smoke. Maidservants scurried about with boxes and bags and trunks stuffed to the point of bursting. The mayhem in the house made it clear that the same outside had come to its dreaded conclusion.

Yecheng had fallen.

A servant frantically tugged on Zhen Ji’s sleeve, begging her to make haste from the city with the rest of them. She had considered it some time ago when the rumors of battle turned dire, knowing that the army would be honored to provide a safe escort to her husband’s side. But what would that leave her with? Feigning more affection for a pitiful excuse for a leader who hid behind the Yuan name while squabbling with his brothers for days on end? Being forced on the run again and again as the family legacy crumbled before a warlord whose momentum was only continuing to build?

Zhen Ji sent the maid away, ordering her to flee along with the others. She maintained her solitary watch until Cao Cao’s banners advanced toward the estate in disciplined lines. She freshened her makeup, secured her sleek hair in a braided bun, and fastened on a set of simple jewelry. Thus composed, she moved to the courtyard.

Marching footsteps thudded their approach, and a group of enemy soldiers burst through the open doorway. They lowered their spears as Zhen Ji held her own head high.

A deep breath, a clear declaration.

“As lady of this house, I surrender.”

* * *

Zhen Ji was made comfortable in an apartment with several of Cao Cao’s consorts. Her days passed in a blur of dancing and needlework and the usual chitchat, which she only partook in to the minimal standards of politeness. The women shared an honest sisterhood rather than the insincere sort of coddling Zhen Ji was accustomed to. Overwhelmed by their candor, she preferred to relate through the one gift of Yuan Xi’s that brought her true joy. Her flute, carved from rare hardwood and adorned with flowers of jade and gold.

The women’s eyes had widened appreciatively at first sight of the instrument. They fell silent as Zhen Ji began to play. As a girl, she had been drawn to the airy grace of the flute. She had later learned to infuse its sweet voice with her own, lacing melodies with disdain when performing at banquets for her snobbish marital family. The notes soothed her even when only she knew their true meaning, and even when no one else was around to hear them.

And sometimes she had to play for herself alone.

In a corner of the Cao estate was a forgotten terrace where the mulberry bushes grew tall and fragrant. Its stone paving was strewn with wildflowers, its greenery bright with untamed splendor. Zhen Ji stole away to this haven on melancholy evenings, free to lose herself in songs which would have seen her smothered in concern from her companions.

The consorts never followed, and other residents were similarly respectful of Zhen Ji’s discretion. Until one cool and overcast day, when she was surprised by a smooth voice from the nearby path.

“Such a rare songbird to be found within these gardens.”

The young man wore silk robes patterned in purple and gold. His eyes were perceptive, his fine features handsome in some familiar and regal manner. A slight smirk played about his lips as Zhen Ji failed to come up with a response.

“Why so silent? I didn’t ask you to stop.”

Her voice was tinged with frost. “I didn’t ask for an interruption.”

“I waited for you to finish.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Perhaps.” He arched an elegant brow. “I do know that it would be a pity for you to be caged in my father’s harem.”

Realization dawned on Zhen Ji as she finally placed the resemblance. As she recognized the keen eyes and proud nose of Lady Bian, a favored consort of Cao Cao who served as a matron to her younger compatriots. This intruder was her eldest son.

Cao Pi.

The heir.

Whose amusement at her unwitting rudeness only emboldened her more.

Zhen Ji demurely raised her flute and blew a shrill, piercing note. Cao Pi winced, at a loss for words. Finally he found voice to respond.

“Not the song I came to hear.”

“You wished me to continue.”

“I suppose I did.” A look of wry amusement. “It seems I should take more caution with my requests.”

“That would indeed be wise.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m certain you can manage to find it.”

Cao Pi smiled as he began to take his leave. “We shall see if that is true.”

* * *

At last Cao Pi had met her. That beauty from the ashes of Yecheng, a peony who only bloomed in her own garden of thorns. Mother said that she kept to herself. But Zhen Ji had spoken with him, and spoken her mind - a refreshing change from the standard flattery. The sycophants around him were tiresome enough, as were women who attempted to curry his favor with unthinking agreement. _Yes, my lord. Whatever you wish, my lord._ He might as well be conversing with a floor mat.

He penned her a poem. He received no reply. And still her song continued to haunt him.

* * *

The women of the court spent long hours in rehearsal. They forged on through false starts and squeaked notes and occasional trips over one’s own feet, sharing good-natured laughter at particularly amusing mishaps. The awkwardness was well forgotten when they took to the stage after banquets in a lithe efflorescence of smooth steps and flowing silks and sinuous harmonies.

Cao Pi observed each performance with a detached air of boredom. His expression remained indifferent when Zhen Ji stepped forth for her first solo. She tilted her head, raised her shoulders, closed her eyes. She played a brief crystalline flourish, allowing it to float for a long and enticing moment before the show began.

Her aria swirled and soared as a breeze through willows gilded by the first days of autumn. Zhen Ji drew out each note with a dark and sensual languor, her body moving as one with the music. Feeling the weight of a stare, she risked a sidelong glance in its direction. And almost lost her composure, as Cao Pi was watching her with a barely perceptible smile. Zhen Ji laid knowing eyes on him, and the mask came back on as a flush arose to his face.

He had once sent a verse of affection which she had dismissed as empty praise. The words now carried a new warmth, deep and bright and finest crimson, and she picked up the brush to arrange her own in response.

* * *

Cao Pi left war council in high spirits. The once proud Yuan clan was scattering like ants before the boots of their army. Victory came as no surprise under Father’s stern and decisive command. Yet each report from the front brought another thrill of pride, another glimpse into his birthright to earn such glory himself.

The door to his chambers was closed. Cao Pi wrinkled his brow, trying to recall whether he had left it open. He went inside, and his cold satisfaction faded beneath a heat that promised to burn.

Zhen Ji had situated herself in his entry room. She wore robes of heron blue and white, flared in the skirts and fitted to the curves of her torso. Her makeup was understated, her hair secured by exquisite sticks of jade and silver. A tea tray sat on the table nearby.

They had shared pleasantries and poems and glances that bordered on daring, but never another face to face talk. Rather than relying on chance or trickery, Cao Pi had sent an invitation to meet. He had imagined that they would speak in the garden, and that he would come prepared with a gallant greeting and smooth words to follow. Zhen Ji now awaited such as he grasped for a suitable opening.

Finally Cao Pi smiled. “Such a welcome response to my inquiry. I should have asked you sooner.”

“You should relax and enjoy your tea.” Zhen Ji poured a cup for each of them as he sat on the cushion beside her. “I expect it’s to your liking.”

It was a complex brew, strong with the floral zest of ginger. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad.”

They savored the tea in tranquil silence. Its subtleties became more apparent, confirming what Cao Pi had suspected when he first caught its aroma. This was a signature blend of Mother’s that she generally insisted on keeping secret.

Zhen Ji refilled their drinks. “How was your day?”

“Nothing I wish to bore you with.”

“I wouldn’t find it boring.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” A smirk. “I’ll bring you one of Father’s texts on military tactics. They’re as cryptic as poetry without the beauty of language.”

Zhen Ji gave a slight shrug. “Perhaps they’re elegant in their own way.”

“Perhaps they are.” War proceeded to the beat of its own rhythms, from drills and drums to the dissonant clashes of cavalry. It was an anthem punctuated by each triumph of battle - one more anvil blow struck to forge the Cao legacy.

“Then why wouldn’t I be curious to know more?”

“I don’t understand why you would be.”

Zhen Ji awaited an explanation, her eyes bright with the same resolute pride that had shocked those soldiers in Yecheng just one month prior.

“Haven’t you seen enough conflict?”

“I only wish I could say that.”

Again, Cao Pi had no response. He had thought that the conquest must be painfully sharp in her memory, that any reference thereto would only drive the blade in further. Then again, Zhen Ji had approached his men without fear. Small wonder that she still wished to face the subject head on.

“Your family has strength. Your victories will continue. I will always know of them in some regard.” Zhen Ji’s voice began to rise. “Why lock myself away from that? I see no point in even trying.”

Cao Pi began to explain that such protection would be in her best interests. Her piercing eyes reminded him that it was in his own to leave the remark unsaid.

“Yuan Xi wished to hide me from the truth. You and I can both attest to the ineffectiveness of his leadership.”

Cao Pi snorted. “You can say that again.”

“I’d rather not.”

The chill in her words gave him pause.

“The past can stay where it belongs. I came here to move on, wherever that may take me.”

They sat without speaking, a short arm’s length apart. He could lift a hand to the delicate point of her chin, lean in close to touch his lips to hers. To draw her into his arms, setting her free to fly once again.

As her gaze softened, that hand began to reach out. It held back before she took notice. Zhen Ji was no wounded bird, no frail maiden in need of a savior. She was tempered steel beneath drapes of silk, ice agleam with the fire of a winter sunrise. An agent of her own fate, best left to choose her path on this road as well.

Cao Pi kept his distance, meeting her dark eyes once more. “I’m certain you will find your way.”

She smiled. “As am I.”

* * *

The drums continued to send men off to battle and herald their triumphant return. They spurred the resultant revelry, forward and onward in an escalating beat. The north belonged to Cao Cao. It was now just a matter of time.

Zhen Ji danced in sumptuous attire with brazen flair to match. Cao Pi’s eyes lingered on each silk-clad contour, each supple sway of her hips. When her gaze dared to challenge his own, it only continued to smolder.

He excused himself as the dinner plates ran empty and the wine began to flow in earnest. She allowed a discreet span of time to pass before following him.

Cao Pi waited in the entry room of his chambers. There was no conceit to his expression, no cocksure glint in his eye. Only that noble confidence belonging to him alone, which had always been apparent beneath the airs he put on in the presence of others.

They approached each other with almost delicate formality, their faces a mere breath apart.

Zhen Ji placed a hand on Cao Pi’s neck, followed by a single featherweight kiss. She coyly drew back, awaiting his next move.

He regarded her with bemusement, his hands a warm comfort where they had come to rest on her slim waist. “That’s all?”

“Only if you want it to be.”

His voice was little more than a husky murmur. “I don’t.”

He clutched her close as she met his insistent lips with her own. They unfastened each other’s sashes, shed their outer garments into heaps of embroidered drapery. His lean chest was sculpted muscle, hers soft and full in his cupped hands. He explored with deft patience, teasing her nipples through the thin silk of her under robes, and he let forth a groan as her fingers traced over him in kind.

Cao Pi trailed kisses down the length of Zhen Ji’s body, his breath hot against her bare skin as her robe fell open before him. He looked up with a mischievous smile, hooking his fingertips into the top of her loincloth. Though he did not speak, his eyes conveyed the message with perfect clarity.

 _Take care with whom you taunt._

He relieved her of the garment and buried himself between her thighs. Her own hands wove through the ebon silk of his hair, taking a tighter hold as fingers and tongue conspired to drain all strength from her knees. He only pressed faster, deeper, riding the thin bright line between tantalization and torment.

Cao Pi pulled away without warning as the tension began to peak. Before Zhen Ji could voice her frustration, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedchamber. He stretched beside her in glorious disarray, relishing a moment of closeness as he slipped free of his remaining attire. Seizing her opportunity, she slithered on top before he had any say in the matter.

She ensheathed him as his hips arched up to meet hers. He was hot and hard and thick inside her, quickening as she matched his thrusts with the same insistence. They rocked together in a shared and mounting rhythm, chasing the elusive edge of overflow. The surge billowed up beneath her, and she was rising, flying, spiraling up into the vault of the cobalt sky - awash with silver light, an autumn moon among spangled stars of mica. A series of sharp bucks, and he curled up off the mattress with one great gasp and a firm grip on her shoulders.

They fell back to earth, flushed and sated and restfully entangled.

Cao Pi reached up with catlike grace, brushing a lock of hair from Zhen Ji’s cheek. “Marry me.”

“I hope you have other reasons for saying that.”

“Naturally.”

She smiled. “Then I should have done this sooner.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this assertive take on Zhen Ji's traditional tale - and that Cao Pi was appropriately awesome for your liking. I had great fun writing these two, even before that certain final scene.


End file.
